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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29547282">stardust (and other intangibles)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerixlee/pseuds/aerixlee'>aerixlee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Naxzela (Voltron), Season/Series 04, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Clone, Suicidal Thoughts, much darker than the summary makes it look lmao, sort of??? it's canon compliant so</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:01:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,318</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29547282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerixlee/pseuds/aerixlee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Keith?” Matt asks quietly, and it’s in a private comm, like he’s anticipating a heavy conversation. “Keith, are you alright?”</p><p>And isn’t that just a wonderful question. What’s he supposed to say? <i>Yes, I’m doing spectacular, which is exactly why I just tried to ram my ship into a force field knowing full well I would die.<i></i></i></p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” Keith says. “I’ll be fine.”<br/>_______</p><p>Season 4 told from Keith's perspective. Featuring the Blade of Marmora, Naxzela, strained team dynamics, an unbelievable amount of self-inflicted isolation, and So Much Introspection.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Allura &amp; Coran &amp; Hunk &amp; Keith &amp; Lance &amp; Pidge | Katie Holt &amp; Shiro, Keith &amp; Shiro (Voltron), Keith &amp; The Blade of Marmora</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>TheReallyGoodOnes</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>stardust (and other intangibles)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i told myself i wouldn't write voltron fanfics, but here we are. only for keith kogane.</p><p>(normally i actually use proper capitalization for my notes, but i lack energy, motivation, and will to live. which should be obvious considering this fic.)</p><p>whipped this self-indulgent bad boy out of my ass in less than 24 hrs after rewatching s3 and part of s4. i watched that scene in s4e1 where literally no one stops keith from leaving, and i experienced a wave of Anger at a level i could forgot i could feel. there's nothing like spite to get the inspiration flowing.</p><p>seriously, this is the most self-indulgent shit i've ever posted. i normally wouldn't post something like this, but i put way too much effort into it to let it gather dust. i hope you enjoy! &lt;3</p><p>(please mind the tags!! cw for generally suicidal behavior/thoughts, non-graphic descriptions of injuries, and a generally not great state of mind)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keith forgets, a little, during his time with the Blades.</p><p>It’s easy to get lost in the missions. In the repetition, in the coldness, in the relative anonymity provided by the masks. The missions are simple enough - extraction, information-gathering, spying, sometimes outright combat if necessary. But they are never rescue missions.</p><p>Never rescue.</p><p>
  <em> Never rescue. </em>
</p><p>Keith dives into the ship just before the doors close, the tip of his foot nearly catching between the metal. He yanks away just in time, landing hard on the floor and sliding a few feet from the force of the impact. He lays there for a moment, curled up, catching his breath.</p><p>“The mission before the individual,” Kolivan says quietly, a reminder of what could’ve happened if he came even a second later. He’s stopped lecturing him at some point - when, Keith has no idea.</p><p>“I know,” Keith pants. He struggles to his feet, wincing slightly as he touches a hand to his ribcage, and lets his mask fall away so he can breathe better. <em> “Fuck.” </em></p><p>It’s never a rescue mission. He thinks about this as he rides in silence with the rest of the Blades that joined them on the mission, as he stumbles down the hallway of their base to his room, dragging a hand along the purple-lit walls for support. If he dies out there, if he gets captured, there is no one coming back for him.</p><p>Knowledge or death. Mission over individual.</p><p>It wasn’t like this with Voltron. They dropped everything to save Allura, went up against all odds to save her. Keith often wondered in the nights after that if they would’ve done the same for him if he was in Allura’s place. He never arrived at an answer.</p><p>He doesn’t have to wonder anymore. No one would come for him now.</p><p>Keith gently, gently strips off the tight-fitting uniform, wincing as bare skin meets the chill air. There are no mirrors in his room, just a bed and a place to store his uniform and other belongings, but he doesn’t need a reflection to see the violent bruises spilling all over his torso, coloring over healed scars.</p><p>If he blurs his eyes, his skin almost looks purple. Galra purple.</p><p>Keith changes quickly, pulling on a clean uniform. There’s no point in wearing comfortable clothes here, not when the Blades are spread so thin that a mission could come at any point, at any hour. He hasn’t relaxed for a moment since--</p><p>Since he left.</p><p>Even before that, though, if he’s being honest. Maybe after everyone found out about him being part Galra. Or when he first made the connection between Ulaz’s knife and his. Perhaps even when that quintessence splattered on his skin and he saw purple spots writhing on his flesh, different and ugly and <em> alien. </em></p><p>Whatever it is, he can draw a line straight from it to the Blade.</p><p>When was the last time he really, truly relaxed?</p><p>There’s no point in wondering anymore.</p><p>______________</p><p>Time passes. Days, weeks, months - or quintants; whatever.</p><p>Keith gets faster. Better. The Blades are more agile than anyone he’s ever encountered on Earth. He gets knocked flat on his ass almost immediately in the first few sparring matches he has, unaccustomed to their fighting style, but he picks it up quickly. It’s not long before he can hold his own in a fight as well as the rest of them can, mixing his martial arts training on Earth with the techniques of the Blade.</p><p>None of them talk much to each other. It’s better not to, not when any one of them could die in a mission, not when they’ll all be expected to leave each other behind. It’s a dynamic unlike anything Keith has ever experienced - detached but loyal, cold but caring. Caring in its own way, caring in the way that comes only by necessity.</p><p>“You’re limping,” Antok says one day. Keith is headed back to his rooms, weary from a mission, Antok in the opposite direction. Both pause in the middle of the hallway, Keith suddenly very on guard. “Are you hurt?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” says Keith sharply, but he’s too tired for it to have much bite to it.</p><p>“You’re limping,” Antok repeats, and Keith closes his eyes.</p><p>“Yeah,” he snaps. “No shit. I’m fine. Leave it alone.”</p><p>Antok seems to understand this as Keith giving his full consent to him picking him up by the collar like he’s a fucking <em> cat </em> and dragging him off to the healing deck. Keith wasn’t even aware that the Blades had a healing deck.</p><p>He also wasn’t aware that it was even physically possible for him to be picked up like that. Maybe it’s a Galra thing.</p><p>“I don’t need that,” says Keith flatly as Antok approaches him with a box of medical supplies. “It’s just bruising.”</p><p>“You’re bleeding,” says Antok, and Keith looks down at his leg, and shit. Yeah. He is.</p><p>“Oh,” he says, because he doesn’t really know what else there is to say.</p><p>Antok cuts open the fabric of his pants, rough, callused hands gently slicing away the bloodied cloth to get to the wound beneath. Keith sinks his teeth into his lower lip to avoid making a sound, jaw tightening painfully.</p><p>To his credit, Antok doesn’t ask any questions. He simply stitches up his wound, treats it with ointment, and wraps a bandage over it all.</p><p>It hurts, but Keith is grateful.</p><p>“Thank you,” he says, once Antok has straightened up and put the supplies back. “You, uh. You didn’t need to do that for me.”</p><p>“We can’t have injured members on missions,” says Antok, and something in Keith’s chest clenches. He looks away.</p><p>“Right,” says Keith. “Yeah.”</p><p>But Antok is right in front of him, now, looking down with that unnervingly unreadable stare. Keith looks right back at him.</p><p>“You would do well to look after yourself,” he says quietly, something in his tone that Keith can’t quite place. And before he can, Antok turns away, walking out of the room.</p><p>And that’s that.</p><p>______________</p><p>Sometimes, Keith is glad to have left Voltron, if only because he doesn’t have to do that ridiculous show Coran seems to be pushing. He knows that he never would’ve let them do that if he was still the leader of Voltron, and he also knows that that choice would’ve hurt them. He sees how their publicity efforts have expanded Voltron’s reach, and he knows, and he gets it, understands why it’s necessary.</p><p>But it’s hard not to feel bitter when he dives into the ship at the very last second for the third time that week. When he watches someone choose to stay behind for the sake of the mission for the second, third time, and knows that they won’t be coming back. When he has to cling to the wall for support walking back into base, stumbling towards his room while bleeding sluggishly, all while knowing that his friends are off entertaining some planet somewhere with their spectacles and performances.</p><p>His friends. <em> Friends. </em> If they even consider him one of them anymore.</p><p>Do they even know what he puts himself through with each mission? How close to death he comes every single time, all while they’re making entertainment out of themselves?</p><p>He’s glad he left. He is. It was better to cut himself off entirely rather than force someone like Shiro to the sidelines. The team never listened to him, anyways.</p><p>They never listened. They <em> never listened, </em> not until he-- until he left. They didn’t stop him when he left. It was the first and only time they actually listened, and he-- they--</p><p>
  <em> They didn’t stop him. </em>
</p><p>“Two sentries approaching,” says Keith quietly. “Make it fast.”</p><p>They’re in a Galra base. Information gathering. Typical mission, nothing out of the ordinary. Keith taps his fingers on his thigh anxiously.</p><p>“I need just a few more ticks,” the Blade on the other end mutters, someone whose name Keith has never learned. He feels like maybe he should care a little more about that.</p><p>He doesn’t.</p><p>“Hurry,” Keith says from between gritted teeth. “You’ve got to get out of there right n--”</p><p>“Done,” the Blade says, and Keith <em> moves. </em></p><p>When he’s back on the ship, clutching a data chip and breathing hard, he keeps his mask on.</p><p>“Good work,” says Kolivan. “You’re getting better.”</p><p>It sounds like something Shiro would say. Keith wonders what he’s doing now.</p><p>He thought, of all people, that Shiro would’ve tried to stop him when he decided to leave. Of everyone there, he thought that he would insist that he stay, that he would look, really <em> look, </em> just like he did at the Garrison all of those years ago, and see what Keith was thinking, hear what he left carefully, carefully unsaid.</p><p>He didn’t. He was the first to let him go.</p><p>Keith is quiet, as usual, on the ride back to base. He passes the data chip off to Kolivan as he exits, not even stumbling as he jumps out of the ship. His landing is steady, and he walks as though the bruising on his body doesn’t even exist.</p><p>He thinks, if they asked, he would’ve stayed. If they told him what he told Pidge, if they tried, even a little, to <em> hold on, </em> to not let him go, to-- to--</p><p>No. He’s done thinking about this. What’s done is done.</p><p>Still. He does wonder, sometimes, if they regret.</p><p>______________</p><p>The Blade of Marmora and Voltron are allies in the war, and, by consequence, come into contact with each other quite a bit. Kolivan calls the Castle whenever he has information, which is often, and Keith is always requested at his side. He’s pretty sure it’s to reassure everyone there that he’s still alive. Keith doesn’t think that this is necessary, and he says as much every single time, but Kolivan uses this tone that leaves absolutely zero room for argument whenever he does.</p><p>So he shows up for the damn calls, standing beside Kolivan. Silent. Quiet. <em> Brooding, </em> as Lance might say. They never verbally acknowledge his presence, maybe because of Kolivan, because of the serious nature of the calls.</p><p>Shiro never even looks at him.</p><p>“We’ve planned an event for supply distribution on Olkarion,” says Allura, swiping through the glowing map. Everyone stands around her in familiar positions, in the same spots that they’re almost always in. If Keith was there, he would be towards the back, behind everyone else. But he’s not there, and the group looks…</p><p>Well. It looks full. It looks normal.</p><p>“We’ll need the Blade of Marmora to help,” Allura continues, looking at Kolivan. “As many of your people as you can spare.”</p><p>“Guarding?” asks Kolivan.</p><p>“Yes,” says Shiro, and he’s using his leader voice, the voice that Keith was never able to master completely. “We also have reason to suspect the presence of Galra spies on Olkarion. We need the Blades to either root out these spies or prevent them from striking.”</p><p>Keith does not speak during these meetings. He never has, never will. He is there for appearances only, and everyone knows it. Still, he’ll sometimes catch Lance or Pidge or Hunk glancing warily in the general direction of his part of the screen, like they’re not quite sure what to make of him. Allura will sometimes give him a small smile, Coran an over-exuberant wink, if he manages to catch eyes with either of them. Those are always nice.</p><p>Shiro does not look at him.</p><p>“I’m not going,” says Keith the moment that Kolivan ends the transmission, before the silence can ring through the bridge for too long. “I’m too close.”</p><p>“We already have too few members,” Kolivan says. “You’re going.”</p><p>“Kolivan--”</p><p>“Are they not your friends?” asks Kolivan, looking down at him. Keith stiffens, feeling himself go tense under his stare. “Do you not want to see them again?”</p><p>“I’m not going to be a help there,” Keith says evasively. “It’s just spying and guarding.”</p><p>“Exactly,” says Kolivan. “You’re going.”</p><p>He’s using that tone again, the one that makes any argument sound futile in Keith’s head. He clamps his mouth shut and watches as Kolivan walks off.</p><p>They fly to Olkarion, because Allura might be among the last of her people, but she is still a princess and, by all means, the head of the Voltron Coalition. Keith goes along, however grudgingly, and finds himself shoved up next to Antok the entire time.</p><p>He is, by far, the shortest Blade on the ship. In the entire base, really, but for the sake of his own pride, he prefers to limit his descriptions to his immediate location.</p><p>“Are you ready?” comes Allura’s voice in the comms. Keith adjusts his hood.</p><p>“Ready,” confirms Kolivan. “Landing in thirty ticks.”</p><p><em> Landing </em> involves jumping out of the ship from the air. It’s incredibly satisfying to hear the shouts of alarm from the comms as the paladins react to the sight, and Keith feels himself grin a little beneath his mask despite himself, relishing in the wind whipping his clothes, in the swoop of his stomach and the ground rushing nearer and nearer. It’s familiar, reminiscent of his hoverbike in the desert, back when he was reckless for the sake of recklessness. He tucks into a roll just in time, coming back on his feet running.</p><p>He never feels more alive than he does with pure adrenaline rushing through his veins.</p><p>“Was that really necessary?” Hunk asks, voice about an octave higher than usual. “Couldn’t they just, I don’t know, land?”</p><p>Lance says something about <em> purple space furries </em> and <em> dramatic entrances </em> that makes Pidge punch his shoulder, from the sound of it, while Shiro lets out an exasperated <em> “Lance.” </em> It’s so familiar that it aches.</p><p>They leave the comms on for all of the paladins in case of an emergency. The Blades are to keep theirs off unless immediately necessary to reduce interference.</p><p>The Blades group together for a rundown of their positions. Keith is with Kolivan and Antok, because apparently he can’t be trusted on his own <em> (Regris, </em> his brain reminds him, and he promptly shoves the thought away, just as he has been), the three of them stationed in the middle of the crowd close to the ship that Voltron will be distributing supplies from.</p><p>“And keep an eye out for anything strange,” Kolivan reminds them. “This isn’t like last time. We’re not just guarding.”</p><p>It’s an easy enough task. Keith keeps his mask up, not interacting with anyone other than the occasional <em> all clear </em> to the comms. It helps that everyone seems wary of the Galran organization, giving every member a wide berth, though Keith supposes that that’s more hurtful to their work than helpful.</p><p>It’s painful to see his team together, going on without him. He knows that it was necessary, but seeing them together like that, functioning and moving forward, is just a harsh reminder of how permanent his exit is. He’s not going to be able to go back, isn’t going to be able to have any of that anymore.</p><p>He is expendable. He knows that now more than ever.</p><p>Before, he was the Red Paladin of Voltron, the only person able to pilot the Red Lion. Then, he took Shiro’s place, took on a leadership role he never wanted, and then Shiro came back. He came back different.</p><p>He came back… not like himself.</p><p>But what’s done is done. Keith isn’t going back, and his team knows that. They let him go, didn’t even try to stop him, and if he cried in the hallway as he walked away, if he left all of his belongings on the Castle other than his knife out of some vain, subconscious hope that they would ask him to come back, well. They don’t need to know that.</p><p>He doesn’t need to think about that anymore, either.</p><p>“Hey, where’s Keith?” comes Pidge’s voice in the comms, as if Keith summoned them with his thoughts. From where he stands, he can see Pidge turning to Lance. “We saw him on the transmission with Kolivan the other day. He might be here.”</p><p>Lance cranes his head, searching the crowd. “Maybe?” he says, and if Keith was paying attention, which he isn’t, he would say that there’s something like hope in his tone. “I don’t know. These guys all look the same.”</p><p>“He’s short,” Hunk jumps in. “He’s, like, <em> really </em> short in comparison to the rest of the Blades. Just look for a short one.”</p><p>Keith swears that Antok looks amused beneath his mask. That shouldn’t even be possible, but he <em> does. </em></p><p>“It’s impossible to tell from here,” complains Lance. “Pidge, can’t you hack the comms and unmute him or something?”</p><p>“If my hands weren’t full,” says Pidge pleasantly, and there’s a <em> whack </em> that sounds unmistakably like they just smacked Lance with a bag full of supplies, “then <em> maybe. </em> We could also just ask Kolivan.”</p><p>“No way,” Hunk says immediately.</p><p>“He scares me,” agrees Lance, and yeah, Antok definitely looks amused. Something about his shoulders. “Besides, he’s probably not even going to give us a straight answer.”</p><p>“You know that all members of the Blade are listening right now, right?” Pidge asks dryly. “Meaning that Kolivan can hear you right now?”</p><p>Lance flushes a shade of mortified red visible even from where Keith is. But Hunk’s eyes are going wide.</p><p>“Wait,” he says. “That means that if Keith’s here, he’s listening, too.”</p><p>“Keith!” exclaims Lance, far, far, <em> far </em> too loud. Keith winces, touching his ear. “Buddy! Where are you? Raise your hand and wave.”</p><p>Keith does not raise his hand and wave. Antok is definitely laughing. Keith didn’t know that any of the Blades even knew <em> how </em> to laugh. He flips him off, knowing full well that he isn’t going to understand the gesture, but it’s the thought that counts. Judging by the way Antok’s shoulders shake harder, he gets the idea.</p><p>“Please refrain from shouting into the comms,” says Kolivan, and Lance immediately shuts up. “And, for the record, Keith is here. He seems to be electing to ignore your shouting, a decision that I must agree with. Please stay on task.”</p><p>“Don’t order my team around, Kolivan,” Shiro says mildly, and Keith starts. He hadn’t realized that Shiro was there.</p><p>“It was a request,” says Kolivan. “I must ask that your team stop harassing my team through the comms.”</p><p>“Meaning we can harass them outside of the comms,” mutters Pidge, then raises their voice a little louder. “Sorry, Kolivan. Sorry, Keith.”</p><p>“You’re fine,” says Keith, unmuting before he can overthink it. Immediately, there’s an explosion of noise as everyone starts shouting in his ears. He can see the rest of the Blades wincing, touching their earpieces beneath their masks.</p><p>Kolivan is glaring at him. He doesn’t need to see his face to know that.</p><p>“Guys,” says Keith exasperatedly. “Please shut up and let us work.”</p><p>“Absolutely not,” Pidge says immediately.</p><p>“Come over here,” whines Lance. “Come on, mullet boy. When are we going to be able to talk to you again after this?”</p><p>“No,” Keith says, because that answer definitely makes sense in the context of Lance’s question, and mutes himself.</p><p>Kolivan is definitely glaring at him. Antok is not laughing anymore.</p><p>Keith stays quiet for the rest of the mission.</p><p>It’s only when they’re heading back to the ships that the Blades let their masks drop. Keith lets his fall away, tilting his head back and closing his eyes to let sunlight wash over his face.</p><p>He’s tired.</p><p>There’s a crackle in his ear. They shut off comms a while ago, so this is new.</p><p>“Keith?” says a voice. Allura. “Are you there?”</p><p>“Uh,” Keith says. “Yeah? What’s up?”</p><p>“Oh, good,” says Allura, clearly relieved. “I was worried we had the wrong person. Pidge got the wrong Blade just moments ago.”</p><p>“Marmorite,” corrects Lance, because he’s apparently still on that. Keith rolls his eyes.</p><p>“Not my fault,” says Pidge’s distant voice, indignant. “Hey, Keith, could you turn around and--”</p><p>“We’re leaving now,” Keith says cautiously. He glances up ahead, where the rest of the Blades are boarding the ship. “I’ve, uh. I’ve got to go. Nice seeing you guys.”</p><p>“Keith--”</p><p>Keith shuts off his earpiece, tugging it out of his ear. He gives himself a moment to breathe, hands clenched tightly into fists at his side, the earpiece straining under the pressure.</p><p>“Keith?” Kolivan calls. Everyone else is already on the ship.</p><p>“Yeah,” says Keith. He presses a hand to his forehead, scrubbing the heel of his hand over his face, and lets his arm drop. “Yeah. I’m coming.”</p><p>He doesn’t see Allura, Pidge, and the others sitting on the edge of the cliff, watching him leave.</p><p>______________</p><p>“Again.”</p><p>Keith struggles to his feet, teeth bared. His hands tighten around his blade, arms trembling slightly from overexertion.</p><p>“Again.”</p><p>Slash. Stab. Dodge. Roll.</p><p>“Again.”</p><p>He’s pushed himself like this before. Training until he was too tired to think was his coping mechanism back on Earth, back in the Castle. The only difference here is that literally everyone else in the Blade of Marmora’s base is just as uncaring of their own limits as Keith is.</p><p>They are equally as uncaring of Keith’s limits.</p><p>“Again.”</p><p>He doesn’t trip, but it’s a very near thing.</p><p>“Again.”</p><p>Slash. Stab. Dodge. Roll.</p><p>“Again.”</p><p>Slash. Stab. Dodge. Roll.</p><p>“Again.”</p><p>If he were on the Castle, someone would’ve come in by now.</p><p>“Again.”</p><p>No one is coming for him. He is alone.</p><p>“Again.”</p><p>
  <em> Knowledge or death. </em>
</p><p>______________</p><p>The first time that Keith understands that motto is much less monumental than he would have thought it to be. He almost expected it to be a lot more… dramatic. Drawn out.</p><p>It is decidedly not the latter.</p><p>Alarms are blaring. Lights flashing. They’re caught. But they cannot afford to let this information fall into the wrong hands.</p><p>It’s not even a decision, really. It just sort of… clicks.</p><p>“Go!” shouts Keith. “I’ll stay here as long as I can to let it finish downloading! I’ll send it off to Kolivan the moment that it’s done.”</p><p>There’s no hesitation from either of the Blades. They lunge to their feet, sprinting out of the room. Keith turns his full attention to the screen, nails digging into his palms.</p><p>He gets it, finally. The mission is more important than the individual. In comparison to the end of the war, he is nothing. Insignificant. His role is small enough, easily replaced. As long as the mission is completed, knowledge gained, there is no harm done.</p><p>The file is loaded. Keith immediately sends it off to Kolivan, hands steadier than they have ever been. The ship is going to blow in less than twenty ticks if the Blades set their bombs correctly.</p><p>He’s got twenty ticks to get out of here. He’s not going to make it.</p><p>Knowledge or death. He really does understand, now. It’s more similar to the Galra Empire’s motto than they might realize, really. Less of a phrase to live by and more of a substitute for what they let go of. Victory or death, because what’s the point if there isn’t a completed mission at the end of the day? What’s the point if nothing comes out of it?</p><p>What’s the point?</p><p>He can hear his blood thudding in his ears, breathing growing steadily more ragged as seconds pass. Ticks. There’s no point in using Earth measurements when he’s so far away from home, and he’s going to die out here, isn’t he? Hundreds of thousands of miles away from home, even if he never considered that planet home, because the Castle was always more of a home to him than anything else.</p><p>He’s going to die.</p><p>As if on cue, the bombs go off. One by one.</p><p>Keith covers his head instinctively as he’s thrown out into open space, gasping for air through a too-tight mask. It seems fitting that this is how it will end, too far from a planet that never cared for him, too far from a team that he never fit into. He’s in space, where he’s always wanted to be, on a mission for an organization tied to an heritage that he never wanted, and he’s going to die out here.</p><p>And no one will know. No one will care. Not when he’s completed the mission. They’ve never gone on a rescue mission, after all.</p><p>He tells himself that this is a good thing.</p><p>He spins like a fucking top for a few moments, unable to gain control of his movement, unable to avoid flying debris as it slams into him, propelling him forward and--</p><p>And that’s the ship.</p><p>The doors are closing.</p><p>By some miracle, by some <em> impossible </em> miracle, he makes it into the ship. He lands, hard, on the ground, crumpled into a heap, shaking uncontrollably. Everything hurts.</p><p>His mind is blank.</p><p>No one helps him up.</p><p>______________</p><p>“There’s a transmission from the Castle.”</p><p>Keith looks up, halfway through wrapping a bandage around a particularly nasty gash on his arm. Kolivan is standing in his doorway.</p><p>“Okay,” says Keith, continuing to wrap the rest of the bandage around himself. “I’m a bit busy. You can just let them know that I’m alive if they ask.”</p><p>There’s a tension to his words that neither he nor Kolivan acknowledge.</p><p>“They’re asking for you, specifically,” says Kolivan, and Keith pauses. “It appears that they called to talk to you.”</p><p>Slowly, Keith straightens up. His torso is bare, uniform pooled around his waist for better access to his injuries, and he’s suddenly quite aware of the chill of the room. He’s tempted to wrap his arms around himself.</p><p>“Why?” he asks carefully.</p><p>“I didn’t ask,” Kolivan says. “I wouldn’t keep them waiting if I were you. Head to the bridge whenever you’re ready.”</p><p>His words say <em> take your time, </em> but his tone says <em> get your ass up right now. </em> It’s how Keith finds himself on the bridge, all alone, mask off and his uniform, still bearing the marks of his most recent mission, pulled back over himself.</p><p>They’re all waiting for him on screen when he enters.</p><p>“Keith!” someone shouts, and he’s not really sure who because then they’re all shouting his name, waving furiously and grinning. Keith waves back, a little bewildered.</p><p>Shiro is standing near the back, he notices.</p><p>“Hi,” Keith says. “Uh. What’s up?”</p><p>His head is pounding. It’s probably not a good thing.</p><p>Everyone’s smiles are starting to fade. Keith realizes, too late, that he’s forgotten to smile at them, and they’ve no doubt noticed.</p><p>“You look… tired,” says Hunk slowly. “Are you good?”</p><p>“Fine,” says Keith, waving a hand dismissively. “Just been busy lately.”</p><p>Overworking. Undereating. Sleeping too much, too little.</p><p>“What did you need?” he asks, snapping himself out of his thoughts. Better to be done with whatever they want to say as soon as possible. He thought they would’ve been done with him completely after he left, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.</p><p>But Pidge is frowning at him. “Are you injured?” they ask suspiciously. “Your uniform is all torn up. And-- is that <em> blood?” </em></p><p>“I just got back from a mission,” says Keith tersely, trying to be subtle with how he tugs at the uniform to adjust it, but it’s so tight that it doesn’t do much good. “I’m not badly hurt. It’s fine.”</p><p>“Okay,” says Pidge, but they don’t sound convinced. “We just missed you. We wanted to see how you were doing.”</p><p>Keith huffs a small laugh, can’t help it. He can see Lance’s eyebrow raise, Allura’s expression flicker slightly at the sound.</p><p>“What?” asks Lance.</p><p>“Nothing,” Keith says. “Just, uh. It’s nice to see you guys.”</p><p>It’s not a lie, even if it’s not the answer to Lance’s question, and everyone visibly relaxes at the words. Their smiles are back, at least.</p><p>“Sorry, I’m…” Keith sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m tired. But it’s good to see you guys. Is something up?”</p><p>“Is something up?” repeats Lance incredulously. “Dude. You haven’t talked to us in forever. Is it so hard to believe that we just miss you?”</p><p>“Aw, Lance,” says Keith, and his grin is genuine, this time. “You missed me?”</p><p>Lance splutters. “I didn’t say <em> that,” </em> he says indignantly. “I’m talking about all of us. As a <em> team. </em> Because, y’know, that’s what we are.”</p><p>Keith’s smile falters a little, but Pidge joins the teasing just in time, giving him enough room to collect himself. The smile comes a little easier at the sight of Lance and Pidge bickering while Hunk tries to hold back his laughter, Allura and Coran watching with bewildered amusement, and Shiro… </p><p>Shiro.</p><p>Shiro, who’s looking at the screen. Who’s looking at Keith, but not like he’s seeing him, and maybe that can just be attributed to the fact that this is a transmission, but he was looking at him like this when he first got back, too. After Keith found him, half-dead and unconscious, in that Galra fighter ship, when he woke up. And when he was looking out of one of the windows on the Castle, when Shiro came up to him, put his hand on his shoulder like he always did, like he always <em> does, </em> and it felt right, it felt normal, but there was something-- it wasn’t--</p><p>“Shiro?” Keith asks quietly, and Pidge and Lance fall silent. Keith keeps his eyes glued on Shiro, not daring to look away, arms still crossed protectively over himself in something like a hug. Shiro stands with his arms folded as well, but it looks more like he’s actually folded them, unlike Keith.</p><p>Shiro makes eye contact with Keith, and, for a moment, it’s like nothing has changed. It’s like they’re back at the Garrison again, not on two separate bases from two separate alien races. Like Shiro never went to Kerberos. Like Keith never went to the Blade. Like they’re both back with Voltron, like Voltron never happened at all,</p><p>What changed? How could things be so different but fundamentally <em> correct </em> after everything Shiro went through with the Galra Empire, after the desert, after Voltron, but shift so violently after Keith’s time with the Black Lion and Shiro’s second captivity? Their relationship never felt delicate before, but now it feels like the slightest touch will send everything toppling over into a pit of flames. A burning house, a once-solid foundation burning from the inside out.</p><p>Keith can’t help but feel like he did something wrong.</p><p>“Keith,” says Shiro, and he’s smiling. He’s smiling, and it looks like him, and it sounds like him, and it <em> is </em> him, so why-- why?</p><p>Keith would be lying if he said that this wasn’t part of why he left. He couldn’t-- couldn’t stand it anymore, couldn’t bear to look at Shiro when he felt like he was stealing something of his, when he was reminded, every single day, that he had taken on a role out of pure necessity, a role that he never wanted, never deserved, a role that he was only still in possession of because of the Black Lion’s stubbornness. He knows the team secretly hoped that it would come to this, because it was the logical decision, wasn’t it? He was already training with the Blade of Marmora, and he’d planned it that way, made it work out so that he and Shiro could easily slot into the places that they were needed.</p><p>Allura said that Voltron could not go on without Keith, so he changed that. Lance pointed out the problem with the lions, so he changed, that, too, and it’s all worked out like it should.</p><p>But more than any of that, he couldn’t stand how Shiro looked at him like he wasn’t seeing him anymore.</p><p>He was the only person who saw him at the Garrison. He was the only person who saw him even in Voltron, especially during those early days, but he doesn’t seem to look at him like that anymore.</p><p>He doesn’t seem to look at him at all these days.</p><p>Keith can’t bear it. He looks away from Shiro, something deep and painful twisting in his chest.</p><p>He sighs, mostly to himself, and takes a deep breath. He plasters a slight smile on his face.</p><p>“I miss you guys,” Keith says, and if the others notice how his voice has gotten a bit hoarse, they don’t comment on it. “How are you all? I’ve got some time to spare before I need to clean up.”</p><p>The stories they have to tell him are nice. Missions gone wrong, missions gone right. Something that Hunk made with a weird alien fruit that tasted like ice cream. Pidge’s most recent attempts at learning Altean, commentary provided by Coran. Allura’s progress with her bayard’s whip. Lance’s experiences with Red, because he’s somehow managed to pick up on Keith’s worry for his former lion.</p><p>They don’t talk about the Black Lion. They don’t talk about the Blade. They don’t talk about Keith, at all, and that’s partially because of Keith’s own efforts to maneuver the conversation away from him.</p><p>They don’t talk about Shiro, either. That part isn’t because of any efforts of Keith to change topics, but he can’t help but feel like it might be because of him, anyways.</p><p>There’s a distinct tension, like a string drawn tight between them. It’s impossible to ignore, but they’re all trying to ignore it regardless. It shows in the way Lance repeatedly shoves the conversation back afloat without a moment’s pause between topics, in the way Pidge rambles on and on like they’re afraid to stop talking, how Hunk stumbles over his words in his haste to get something, anything out. Even Allura, normally unflinchingly diplomatic and collected, looks strained.</p><p>Shiro hasn’t said anything. Keith had thought, had almost expected that he would be at the front of the room, directly in view of the camera, demanding that Keith return immediately. But he didn’t do that before, and he’s not doing it now.</p><p>And Coran. Coran has been looking at Keith this entire time, unusually serious and contemplative. It makes Keith feel exposed, vulnerable.</p><p>It’s unexpected. Keith wonders if the team has taken Coran’s usual over-excited nature and Shiro’s typical worry for him, draining both out of the two men completely to share between themselves at a more subtle level.</p><p>There’s a lull, eventually. It’s inevitable, and Keith jumps on the exit opportunity immediately. He wonders if that might be why they avoided the silences so frantically.</p><p>“I should go,” he says, and he wants to, but he doesn’t, at the same time. He’s missed them, but the tension, the strained smiles, <em> Shiro </em> - they’re all getting to him. “It’s getting late.”</p><p>“Okay,” says Shiro. “We should let him go, guys. Get some rest, Keith.”</p><p>Keith smiles, and it feels carved, false, mask-like. “I will,” he lies. “Good to see you guys.”</p><p>“Don’t ignore us next time we shout for you,” Lance says. “Pidge might hack your comms, and they aren’t going to be happy if you take out your earpiece again.”</p><p>There are the customary goodbyes. Keith isn’t sure if he’s imagining the small amount of relief in their eyes, but he doesn’t think that he is. He doesn’t blame them. It can’t be fun for them to call the teammate that they know the least out of everyone there, the teammate who <em> left </em> them, the one who nearly led them straight to their deaths on the first day with him as their leader.</p><p>Keith shuts off the transmission. The bridge goes dark without the light from the screen, ringing with silence.</p><p>
  <em> “There’s nothing out there, Coran.” </em>
</p><p>The whole thing felt like a minefield, like a single wrong step would blow his legs off and everyone else with him. There simply isn’t that much to talk to about with him. He’s never been good with small talk, with opening up, and it shows, now, in how little they know about him, in how they let him go.</p><p>
  <em> “If I don’t make it out of here, I want you to lead Voltron.” </em>
</p><p>Because they let him go. They didn’t even try to stop him.</p><p>
  <em> “It is time to think about finding a new pilot for the Black Lion.” </em>
</p><p>He thought Shiro would, at least.</p><p>
  <em> “Patience yields focus.” </em>
</p><p>Keith falls to the ground. He doesn’t realize that he’s dropped into a crouch, hands curled into tight, trembling fists, nails digging into the soft skin of his palms, the heels of his hands pressing into the bones beneath his eyes. Spots swim before his closed eyes, and his head <em> throbs, </em> aches something horrible, like he’s going to pass out or throw up or something, anything.</p><p>
  <em> “Then you’ve chosen to be alone!” </em>
</p><p>Yeah. He has.</p><p>He has chosen to be alone.</p><p>This, all of this - this was all because of him. His last act for the team, leaving them, was for their benefit. He’s chosen to be alone, and he regrets it, he regrets it every fucking moment he spends conscious, but he wouldn’t take it back. He’s not that selfish, never has been, for the people that he loves. Especially Shiro.</p><p>He has no right to be feeling this way. He needs to-- to pull away more. He can’t afford to stay attached to them, not when they need to move on. He doesn’t know how his story will end, but he doesn’t want it to be away from them, even if it’s looking more and more likely that that is exactly how he will go out. Miles away from his friends, from the only family he’s ever had, blown up or suffocated in the middle of space. And he’ll have brought it upon himself.</p><p>He has chosen to be alone, and he must now live with the consequences.</p><p>It’s not unfamiliar. But it still hurts.</p><p>Keith can trace his arc like a dying star. And if this is how he goes out, defending the universe, nameless and unknown, faceless among the mistrusted but well-intentioned, then that is how he will go out.</p><p>His story will end, one way or another.</p><p>______________</p><p>So it’s not really a question when he’s faced with a choice at Naxzela.</p><p>It’s just like that mission all of that time ago. Knowledge or death. In this case, it’s victory or death.</p><p>Keith almost wants to laugh at the irony, at everything. He doesn’t let himself, though, despite being perfectly within his rights to do so. Matt is still on the other end of the comms. Probably a few others, too.</p><p>They have to break through the shield. Their weapons aren’t anywhere near strong enough.</p><p>Keith’s ship is small. Small enough to get in, small enough to potentially destabilize their shield and destabilize their weapons.</p><p>It’s fitting that this is how it will end. Defending the universe. Protecting his friends. Alone.</p><p>He has so much more that he wants to do, wants to say, but if this is the last thing that he ever does, then he’ll make it worth it. He just hopes that this is enough, that this tells his team everything that he didn’t say.</p><p>He hopes that Shiro understands.</p><p>“Keith, what are you doing?” Matt shouts, and Keith’s hands tighten on the controls as he drives the fighter ship forward faster, faster, faster. If he closes his eyes, if he concentrates on the adrenaline, he’s back in the desert, back on that hoverbike, wind whipping at his cheeks as he pushes forward, sand billowing around him in clouds.</p><p>He’ll die on impact. If not then, he’ll die afterwards, flung out into space, just like that Blade mission. Either way, the shield will go down, and the mission will have succeeded, the mission will go on, and everyone will live, and--</p><p>Fuck, who is he kidding? He’s got less than ten seconds left of life, and he’s rationalizing a choice that he’s already made up his mind about, one that he won’t even live to explain the thought process behind. There’s no point. He doesn’t need to explain anything to himself.</p><p>He thinks he gets why he’s been using Earth time measurements lately. Earth was never home to him, but he’d like to think that it was to Dad.</p><p>He wonders if he would be proud.</p><p>And this is how he goes out. This is how he goes out, just like Dad, in a blaze of fire and self-sacrifice, and he’s-- he’s-- he’s hundreds of thousands of miles from Earth, and the shield is right there, right there, <em> right there-- </em></p><p>He closes his eyes. Braces himself.</p><p>
  <em> I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-- </em>
</p><p>A purple flash. Searing heat, roaring and merciless.</p><p>Keith opens his eyes. There’s no shield.</p><p>Pure instinct takes over.</p><p>He <em> swerves. </em> He gets out of the way just in time, eyes wide, gasping, each breath shuddering painfully in his lungs like he can’t get enough air. He’s got a death grip on the controls, knuckles white, hands shaking uncontrollably even with the vice-like hold he has.</p><p>His ears are ringing. But-- no, that isn’t ringing, that’s cheering. That’s-- that’s Voltron, those are his friends, and they’re-- they’re cheering, because the shield is down, and the ship is finally taking damage, and he-- and he--</p><p>He can’t stop shaking.</p><p>“Good work, Keith,” says Shiro, and Keith <em> knows </em> that tone, knows it better than he knows anything else, because he’s heard it at the Garrison, heard it with Voltron, and he’s basked in that praise every single time.</p><p>Except now.</p><p>They cheered. And he knows it wasn’t because of him, knows that they weren’t-- not for him, not for his death, but the timing-- and he--</p><p>
  <em> He can’t stop fucking shaking. </em>
</p><p>“It wasn’t me,” Keith manages, and it’s a miracle that his voice comes out as steady as it does. He looks up, searching the area, the vast expanse of space, and his eyes land on a ship. A painfully familiar ship. “It was Lotor.”</p><p>He thinks he says something about the cannon on Lotor’s ship, about the shield, but he hardly hears himself. His mind is buzzing wildly, hands clenching and unclenching sporadically around the controls like he’s about to fly into another force field, because adrenaline is still pumping through him, mixed with terror and regret into some kind of fucking suicide cocktail that he’s taken way too many of, and yeah, metaphor over.</p><p>“Keith?” Matt asks quietly, and it’s in a private comm, like he’s anticipating a heavy conversation. “Keith, are you alright?”</p><p>And isn’t that just a wonderful question. What’s he supposed to say? <em> Yes, I’m doing spectacular, which is exactly why I just tried to ram my ship into a force field knowing full well I would die. </em></p><p>“Fine,” Keith says. “I’ll be fine.”</p><p>He’s smiling. He’s on the verge of laughter, actually, and he hits mute before it spills from between his lips, relieved and terrified and shaken.</p><p>He’s crying.</p><p>Matt is saying something, but Keith doesn’t hear. He’s always been a silent crier, and now is no exception. But his ears are still ringing, and his hands <em> won’t stop shaking, </em> and it’s just all too much, all at once.</p><p>It won’t kill him to take a rest for once.</p><p>So he sits back. He lets Lotor’s announcement wash over him, listening to the confusion of the paladins and rebel commanders alike. The laughter dies down at some point, leaving him with tears pouring silently down his cheeks, cheeks too pale from a lack of sunlight and too much time spent with a mask on, blood and adrenaline pumping through his alive, alive, <em> alive </em> body, living and breathing and bleeding and sore and <em> alive. </em></p><p>He can deal with the consequences later.</p><p>For now, he closes his eyes, lets the tears fall, and waits for it to pass.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the way this is my first voltron fic ever? i'm honestly glad my contribution to the fandom is keith introspection. kind of iconic of me. will i be writing more? that remains to be seen.</p><p>(....the answer is probably yes.)</p><p>thank you sm for reading!! comments are always, always, always appreciated &lt;3</p><p>come talk to me on <a href="https://twitter.com/aerixlee">twitter</a> !! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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